


To Love a Fool

by EndoplasmicWeen



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:04:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndoplasmicWeen/pseuds/EndoplasmicWeen
Summary: When you found him near death, you didn't know what your mercy would lead to. (Cicero/Reader)





	1. Search and Destroy

"Listener, is that you? Oh, I knew you'd come!"

You heard his voice echoing through the dark halls. It taunted you, driving you forward through the throngs of ghosts that crowded the dank chambers. They fell before your knife, back to the void from where they came from. How had it come to this? Just a few days ago, you were friends. At least you thought you were. You'd sit together in the dining hall, drinking wine as he chattered about anything and everything. You followed his blood through the passages, dodging spikes and ghosts.

You felt bad for reading his journals. Once you had started, you couldn't stop. It was like unraveling some dark secret. You had only wanted the password to the door, but somehow you had learned everything about him. There was a man in there after all. 

Something roared in a cavern, snapping you from your thoughts about Cicero. 

A troll jumped at you, sending you flying into a wall. Stars clouded your vision as you struggled to stand. Cicero's voice again echoed throughout the old sanctuary. Filling all the dark cracks and corners. Getting into your mind. You focused on the troll before you. A well-placed arrow halted its advance, and you finished it off with your daggers. It felt like the troll had broken a rib or two, but you'd deal with it after you killed Cicero. 

By Sithis, could you kill him?

As you came to a wooden door, thoughts of the first time you had met filled your mind. A sunny day, your boots clacked on the stone road as you came upon the fool. How he had smiled when you had brought him the tools. The both of you told jokes as the two of you fixed the wheel. Cicero had offered you money when you had finished, but you declined. It cost nothing to be kind, you said. Plus the company was good. 

All those nights spent together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time as the fire roared in front of you. Was it all a lie? He certainly wasn't showing mercy now. Maybe he really did hate you. He had tried so hard to be the Listener, and then you came along and took it from him. 

You slowly pushed open the door. It groaned a death rattle as the ancient hinges swung. Your boot made a moist squelching sound as it came down in a pool of Cicero's blood. You tried not to grimace. Between the blood and your broken rib, it was hard. 

Cicero laid in front of a fireplace, the fire long gone. He clutched a dirty rag to the wound in his stomach that Arnbjorn had made. Gold eyes in a pale face eyed you warily. 

"Listener...Of course that whore Astrid would have sent you. If you're going to kill poor Cicero, make it quick. I haven't got all day..." He chuckled softly, wincing a bit.

You sighed and collapsed on the floor next to him. Killing him was the last thing you wanted to do, you decided. Holding out your hands in front of you, you struggled to coerce magicka through them. It had never been your strongest skill, and you preferred potions, but you had taught yourself a healing spell in case of an emergency. Golden light shining in your palms proved you were successful, and you immediately put your hands on Cicero's wound. He yelped, but you only pressed down harder. Skin stitched itself back together under your fingertips. Cicero's breathing became less ragged. 

"Why did the Listener help Cicero?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, "Surely Astrid would gut the noble Listener if she didn't bring her back Cicero's head."

Really, why did you help him? The man was clearly mad. But there had been a normal man in there at one point. Maybe one that could be helped. Or at least the one that had been your friend would come back to you. What did you want from Cicero? One more try at fixing the wheel? More nights by the fire? For things to go back to the way they were?

No.

Even then, you wanted more. Every night, you sat wondering if he would be here for you if you weren't the Listener. What would happen if you reached out for his hand, or asked him to hold you? Would he indulge you because you were the Listener? Or did you mean something to him? 

"Cicero, what do you think of me?" You responded to his question with one of your own as you turned your healing magic on your ribs. 

"Cicero thinks the Listener is very-"

"No." You cut him off, "Not as the Listener. As me. Y/n."

He seemed to ponder for a moment. You rustled around the small room looking for anything you could use as a bedroll. Finally, he responded.

"Cicero thinks y/n is a kind person," He spoke slowly, "She fixed my wheel, she talked with Cicero, she, she, she-"

He let out a hacking cough. You found a moth eaten blanket in a drawer and draped it over his curled up body. 

"If I weren't the Listener...would you still want to be my friend?" You asked, fiddling with the logs in the fireplace. Anything to avoid eye contact.

"Cicero thinks so," He turned his head back to face you, "Why are you-"

You felt yourself go as red as his hair, and kept your back to him. 

"What about...more?"

"As in lovers?" There seemed to be a smile in his voice. 

"Something like that."

A fire roared to life in front of you, warming your chilled bones. You felt a brief touch on your back, and turned around. Despite being healed, he still seemed weak.Tired.

"Cicero thinks that he would like that very much." His eyes were clouded with sleep, and he let out a yawn. 

Sleep took him, and you followed suit.

When you woke, he was gone.


	2. Life and Death

Dawnstar Sanctuary was always cold. The chill penetrated the ancient stones, leaving you and the others constantly tending to the fires and wrapping yourselves in furs. But after Falkreath Sanctuary had burned, there had been no place left to go. It was gloomy at first, all dark rooms, drafts, and confusing memories. For you, at least. Babette and Nazir seemed content enough, especially after decorations had been brought out and things returned to normalcy. 

The Night Mother would whisper her bidding to you, and you would obey. And the gold would flow in. Oh how it flew in! You were receiving contracts from all across Tamriel, and initiates as well. The possibility of more sanctuaries was being discussed, and things were finally looking up for the Brotherhood. You did your best to keep the ball rolling. Cicero leaving had hurt, but you channeled your sadness into your work. He hadn't come back. You supposed it was a good thing, but it didn't feel like one. After awhile though, the wound began to close. But occasionally a small detail would pop up that made it open again. An initiate singing a funny song, Babette leaving flowers for Mother, drinking wine by the fire at night. Someone gently touching the small of your back.

You tried not to let it show, though. Bundled up in warm furs, you waved good-bye to Nazir who was sitting by a dwindling fireplace. He lazily waved back at you and went back to the book he had been reading. It was a slow day today, and you needed more wood for the fireplaces, so you had offered to make the trek to Dawnstar to buy some more. A storm was coming, and nobody wanted to be snowed in without a fire.

Exiting the sanctuary, you looked up at the sky. White as a piece of parchment. You cursed to yourself, thinking you should have left earlier. It wasn't snowing yet, but it would soon. You hoped it would hold for the hour it would take to get your errands done. 20 minutes to Dawnstar, 20 minutes to get the wood and supplies you needed, and 20 minutes back. Permafrost crunched under your feet as you headed along the coast to the town. You were so preoccupied with your thoughts, you didn't realize you were being watched until you were slammed against the rocks with a hand around your throat. Wind blew against your eyes, preventing you from seeing your assailant. Your arms flapped in protest, but you were bundled up too tightly to be much use. You couldn't even reach your knife. 

"Listener!"

You would know that voice anywhere. 

"Cicero-"

"Oh the Listener is a fool! More foolish than poor Cicero, and he is a fool! Did you think I would be greatful? Now, you die!" 

A goofy smile appeared on your face. The wind stopped, allowing you to see his face clearly. 

"It's okay if it's you."

"Huh?" The sinister smile that had been on his face dropped, "The Listener wants me to kill her?" 

The hand that had been on your throat dropped away, allowing you to breath a bit more easily. 

"Kill me, Cicero." You held your arms open as an invitation, "Send me to the void."

You didn't know what possessed you to do that. Maybe your time had come. Or maybe it just felt nice to know he came back for you.

"The Listener is truly mad." Cicero smiled and took a step back, "A shame Cicero was only joking! Cicero came back to serve the Listener!"

You closed the gap he made between you two. It was occuring to you how much you wanted him. How much you wanted the intimacy of the night you were sent to kill him, but also more. You wanted to see him, but you also wanted him to see you. To want you. Not because you were the Listener, but because you were you. If what he said that night was true, he wanted the same thing. Cicero was shorter than you by an inch or three, but you brought your face close to his.

"Serve me how, Cicero?"

Cicero's breath was hot against your face. Were you making a mistake? Maybe he was only pretending that night so you would spare him. Mad he may be, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew how to use feelings to his advantage. Suddenly, your boldness was rewarded with his lips on yours. They were chapped and rough, but they made something deep in your stomach purr. 

"However you want, (y/n)." His voice was deeper than normal, and the use of your actual name made you tingle.

You asked him to accompany you to Dawnstar for your supplies, and he obliged. He helped you hook a cart to Shadowmere, and reminisced on the time you had first met. Hopefully you wouldn't break a wheel on the way to Dawnstar. The snowy sky looked ready to burst. 

There were no problems on the way to Dawnstar. The lumberjack you always bought your wood from never asked questions, and didn't look twice at your strange choice of company. Cicero helped load the wood into the cart, and walked with you while you picked up other things you thought you may need. You had plenty of coins in your pocket, and figured you should stock up before the snows came. Wheels of cheese, wine, salt beef and fish, extra blankets and candles. The works. You even bought new warmer clothes for Cicero. The motley he wore was looking worse for wear. A simple warm tunic and pants was all he needed for now, but he seemed almost uncomfortable at the prospect of wearing them. Despite his misgivings with the clothes, he packed them tightly in the back of the cart with the other things, and sat on the bench with you. You began to drive Shadowmere back in the direction of the sanctuary. The winds began to pick up again, and Cicero leaned into you for warmth. 

"Cicero, why did you wait so long to come back?" 

"Cicero didn't know what had happened at first, until he came across some Imperial Soldiers in Winterhold," He sighed, pulling away, "I didn't know if you would want me to come back."

"Of course I wanted you to-wait, can you say that again?" Something seemed off.

"Cicero didn't know if the Listener would want him to come back." 

"No, how you said it before."

"Is the Listener playing a trick on Cicero?"

"No. I just thought I heard you for a minute. Not the jester. Cicero."

"Oh, Cicero sometimes does that," He dismissed you, clearly not wanting to talk about it, "Anyway, Cicero killed the Imperials and used their armor to come back home! Back to Mother, and the Listener!" 

You were getting close to the sanctuary. How would your brothers and sisters react? The initiates wouldn't know the story, but Babette and Nazir would surely ask questions. You parked Shadowmere outside and decided to deal with them head on. Unloading the cart didn't take long, and the first snow flakes began to fall as you dragged the goods in through the black door. Nazir stood immediately inside with Babette, ready to help. They must have heard your approach somehow. Nazir watched Cicero walk in, mouth gaping.

"Okay. I'm not going to ask," He threw his hands up and walked away, "At least make sure he doesn't sing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheesy? Maybe. Do I care? No.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I should be asleep. Part 2 soon.


End file.
